door
closed.

CHAPTER XVII

THE CLOUDS CLEAR

When, glowing with happiness, Paul turned into his gate late in the
afternoon, he was surprised to find Donald Hall impatiently pacing the
driveway before the house. The boy's bicycle was against the fence and
it was evident that he had been waiting some time, for a bunch of lilacs
tied to the handle-bar hung limp and faded in the sun.

"How are you, old man," Paul called jubilantly. "What are you doing
here?"

"Hanging around until you should heave into sight. I must say you take
your time. Your mother has been expecting you every minute since school
closed."

"I had to go to the _Echo_ office and so got delayed."

"Did you tell Carter about the meeting?"

"Yes."

"How did he take it?"

"He was great--corking!"

"Really? I thought he'd cut up pretty rough."

"So did I; but he didn't. He's more decent than I gave him credit for
being. I like Carter. He's all right."

"You're the first person I ever heard say so."

"Perhaps people don't know him," replied Paul warmly. "You can't judge a
man hot off the bat. You've got to try him out."

Donald broke into a laugh.

"Oh, he's been tried out all right. People know him too well; that's the
trouble."

Paul stiffened.

"Well, all I can say is that I've found Carter mighty kind. He's treated
me white. If you knew as much about him as I do you'd say so too. In the
meantime I'd thank you to remember he's my friend and not run him down."

There was an awkward pause. Donald dug the toe of his shoe into the
gravel walk and fidgeted uneasily.

Paul waited a moment, then, attributing his chum's silence to
resentment, he added in a gentler tone: "I didn't mean to pitch into you
so hard, old chap; it's only that Carter has been so mighty generous
that I couldn't bear to have you light into him that way."

Donald, however, despite the conciliatory tone, did not raise his head.
Instead he continued to bore holes in the walk, automatically hollowing
them out and filling them up again with the tip of his boot.

Paul endured the suspense until at last he could not endure it any
longer.

"I say, Don, what's fussing you?" he burst out.

The visitor crimsoned.

"What makes you think anything is?" he asked, hedging.

"Well, you wouldn't be loafing around here, digging up our whole
driveway, unless there was," persisted Paul good-humoredly. "Come, out
with it! You're the darndest kid for getting into messes.